Challenge Stories
by kazlynh
Summary: Short short stories inspired by a one word prompt in the SGA universe of Ronon Dex
1. Chapter 1

Prompt 1 – "Curse"

The disappointment and frustration was written all over Ronon Dex's face and Carson Beckett had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch him on the arm in a gesture of comfort. If it had been anyone else, the Doctor wouldn't have hesitated, but Ronon had only been on Atlantis for a week or so, keeping himself to himself, and Carson still wasn't quite sure how to best deal with the big, taciturn Satedan.

"I'm sorry…" he tried.

Arms folded across his chest, Ronon tilted his head slightly as he looked at Beckett, "You're sure, Doc?"

The Scotsman nodded, "Aye, I am, Big Man. I ran the tests three times just to be sure, but there's no evidence at all of anything that might have soured you for the Wraith..."

Ronon nodded, pursing his lips, taking in the information, wondering where he was going to go from here. There was little left for him now on Atlantis. These people from Earth had rescued him, but they didn't trust him. He was followed everywhere like a convicted felon rather than a "guest".

He had only stayed this long in the hope that the Doctor would find an answer. He had willingly submitted himself to all sorts of medical prodding and poking, in the hope that the Atlantis medics would be able to quantify the curse that had spared him when the rest of his people had been devoured. If they could isolate it, they could use it against the Wraith.

But in yet another unjust twist of destiny, even that possibility had been stolen from him.

Ronon had appreciated the courtesy the Atlantis medical staff had shown him. He was grateful to Beckett for removing the tracking device and for trying to find answers for him. He had even been grateful for Sheppard's clumsy attempts to divert him from his dark moods after they had found Sateda rased to the ground.

These were not his people, though. He was a stranger here: a distrusted outsider, and he no longer had any reason to stay.

"Thanks, Doc," he told Beckett, turning and heading for the door.

"Ronon?"

The Satedan stopped, turning to look back at the Doctor.

"You've been running for quite a wee while," Beckett reminded him. "Whatever it was that the Wraith didn't like, it's probably out of your system by now, years out of your system. It could have been the food that you'd eaten… or residue from the firearms you were using…"

He took a step towards Ronon, "I know that we didn't find anything this time… but that doesn't mean that we won't find it next time…"

Ronon hesitated. It was tempting… but the walls of Atlantis were already closing in on him. The Satedan nodded acknowledgement of the Doctor's words and then turned away, walking out into the corridor. The protection detail fell in a few steps behind him.

He would go to their mess area, fill his belly, then he would ask for some supplies and get on his way.

oo0oo

Leaning on the balcony rail, the breeze tugging at his hair, Ronon Dex watched the colours of the sunset as they changed and darkened on the far horizon.

John Sheppard's invitation to stay, to become part of his team on Atlantis, had interrupted the plans to leave. It had been a long time since he had worked as part of a unit. He respected both Sheppard and Teyla, but after seven years evading the Wraith alone, it wouldn't be easy adjusting to taking orders and being responsible for more than just himself…

The other side of the coin, however, was having a dry bed to sleep in, food in his belly and someone to watch his back. Those were very appealing prospects.

The Wraith had ripped him from everything he had ever known. Whatever the curse that had thrown him into a solitary life of running, hiding and fighting, events had pushed him into the path of these people from Earth. He had seen them risk their lives to help one of their own… and now he was being offered a place amongst them.

_Ronon, you need to trust us._

Maybe, finally, it was time…

Ronon Dex turned, walking back into the city of Atlantis, heading down to find John Sheppard and give him his answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Cobbled Apples  
Prompt: Blessing

Ronon glanced up then paused, a forkful of something called apple cobbler half way to his mouth. Across the table from him, Teyla was lost in thought, moving now-cold peas around her plate but not eating.

"Teyla?"

Oblivious, she continued to look down at her plate, pushing the peas with her fork.

He knew she was going through a rough time right now, had a lot on her mind. Her people had been taken from their settlement, she'd not long found out that she was going to have a baby… and she'd just had to deal with Jon Sheppard's reaction to hearing that she was pregnant

Sheppard didn't often surprise Ronon, but his reaction to Teyla's news had taken Ronon aback. Ronon had quirked an eyebrow and traded looks with Rodney, but decided to stay quiet. Whatever had sparked Jon's terse response was between Sheppard and Teyla…

Ronon knew that Jon had a soft spot for Teyla, but his reaction had made Ronon wonder if it was something more than that. Or maybe he was just simply sore at Teyla not telling him she was seeing someone, let alone serious about the relationship…

Whatever it was, Ronon couldn't just sit and let her worry about it. Not when she had at least one reason to be happy.

"Teyla?" he tried again, more loudly.

She started slightly, looking up at him.

"You okay?" The words were out of his mouth before he actually realised what he'd said and he almost winced at the stupidity of the question. It was obvious that she wasn't 'okay'.

She blinked, taking a breath and opening her mouth before sighing softly and putting her fork down, "I am sorry, Ronon… I am not as hungry as I believed…"

He quirked an eyebrow, telling her gently, "You need to eat. You need to keep your strength up…"

Giving him a sad smile, she nodded, telling him, "I know… I am… simply not hungry…"

"You know I was only kidding," he tried, trying to lighten the atmosphere, "You don't have to call the baby Ronon… It was just a suggestion."

"I…" she began, then realised he wasn't being serious. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "It is a strong name…" she told him.

He chuckled, waving the fork at her, "Got you…" Then he suggested, "At least eat your desert… It's cobbled apples or something. It's not bad…"

She smiled and nodded and swapped round the plates on her tray, but Ronon could see that she looked at it without much enthusiasm.

Putting down the fork, Ronon reached over, covering one of her hands with his. "We'll find him, Teyla," he assured her. "We'll find them all and bring them home... But right now you have to concentrate on yourself and on this new blessing you're carrying."

He smiled, squeezing her hand, "No point in bringing him home if you don't…"

Teyla looked at him, blinking back tears. Nodding, she smiled, telling him, "You are quite right…"

"So," Ronon grinned, "what do you say to taking your desert and letting me escort you back to your quarters where you can put your feet up and let me make you some of that tea you like so much?"

Teyla swallowed down the constriction in her throat and nodded, telling him, "That is an excellent idea…"

"Come on," Ronon said, shoving himself to his feet, "Let's get out of this place."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Memories**  
**Prompt: Sweet**

"Hey…"

"Ronon…" Carson Becket rose to his feet. "Hello… Is everything okay?"

The big Satedan had been offworld with Teyla, trading with a village they had established contact with the previous month. It should have been a peaceful, non-eventful outing but, in this galaxy you could never be sure of anything.

"It's fine," Ronon told him. "They said in the infirmary that you'd gone off duty…"

He held out a small, woven satchel, "Teyla's taken stuff to Elizabeth Weir, so I said I'd bring this to you…"

A slow smile spread its way across Carson Beckett's face. "Come away in, Big Man!"

Ronon moved into Carson's quarters, handing over the satchel to the doctor. Cradling his precious cargo Carson turned and walked over to the table. "If this is what I think it is…"

Teyla had said nothing about what was in the bag, only that Carson had asked for it and Ronon watched, intrigued, as Carson pulled one of the pottery flagons from the satchel.

Putting the bag down, Carson broke the seal on the bottle and sniffed. The grin that spread across Carson's face told Ronon that the bottles contained what the doctor had hoped.

"It is!" Carson sighed happily.

Grinning at Ronon, he offered, "Sit yourself down! This stuff shouldn't be drunk alone! And as I'm off duty tomorrow, there'll be no harm in a wee glass or two!"

He turned, heading over to another unit for two glasses, continuing, "Of course, it's not a Speyside single malt..."

"A what?" Ronon asked, sinking into one of the chairs.

Glasses in hand, Carson turned, looking at him, "Whisky, lad. The amber nectar…"

Ronon quirked an eyebrow, giving him a flat look.

"Don't tell me you're a beer man?" Carson derided, heading back towards him.

"The stuff Sheppard drinks?" Ronon asked.

"Aye," Carson confirmed.

Ronon pulled a face. "I like it stronger… Back home we had _atopae_… distilled from a root vegetable. It was strong. Burned all the way down when you drank it straight…"

"Sounds something like Earth vodka," Carson mused. "That's made from a root vegetable too: a potato… This, however," he went on, heading across to where Ronon sat, "is the Pegasus galaxy's version of mead…"

Ronon quirked an eyebrow again, "Mead?"

"Aye," Carson confirmed, sitting opposite him and putting the glasses down on the low table. "The Vikings brought it over to Scotland."

"Vikings?"

"Aye," Carson confirmed. "A warrior race from Scandinavia… Actually," he considered, "they have a lot in common with what you've told me of your people… You should look them up. They'd arrive from across the North Sea in longboats," he went on, pouring the golden liquid into the glasses, "and send raiding parties ashore. They managed to set up colonies in some places…"

He put the bottle down, continuing, "In fact, my grannie used to joke that half the population of Scotland are related to half the population of Norway… Here, lad," he offered, picking up a glass and handing it to Ronon. "Wrap your tongue around that… Slainte!" he finished, holding up his glass in salute.

Ronon lifted his own glass, announcing, "Strength always!" Then he took a careful mouthful of the liquid. It was thick, strong and sweet. He swallowed, feeling the mead slide a warm trail down his throat into his belly.

"Well?" Carson asked.

Ronon nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. "It's good… Sweet…"

"It's made from honey…" Carson grinned, sitting back in the chair. "I remember when I was a wee lad, if it was really cold on Guy Fawkes Night then my grannie would have mead warming on the cooker for us when we got in from watching the fireworks… She'd put cinnamon and orange slices in it. A wee glass of that, then a hot bath and into bed…"

He sighed softly, looking into his glass, "Whenever I smell this stuff, I remember the smell of the fireworks and the smoke from the bonfires too…"

Ronon listened to Carson talk, savouring the mead. The doctor's story had sparked the brief impression of a memory but, buried beneath seven years of not allowing himself to remember the past, the memory eluded him.

He let it go, trusting that it would come back more clearly if he didn't think about it. "So," he asked, "Guy Fawkes… is that some sort of religious ceremony?"

Carson shook his head, taking another drink before answering, "No… but religion played its part. It celebrates the foiling of a plot to kill the ruling classes of England by blowing up the parliament building… the ruling classes being of one religion and the plotters of another…"

Ronon took that in then frowned, asking, "So… why would you celebrate? You're not English…"

Chuckling, Carson agreed, "No… but the English Queen Elizabeth had died with no children. Her closest relative was the Scottish king… who took the crown of England as well as Scotland… James the First of England and Sixth of Scotland, who was the plotters' main target… They'd have been successful too if someone hadn't got suspicious of Fawkes. They searched the parliament buildings and found the barrels of gunpowder. Fawkes and the other plotters were arrested and executed… Remember, remember the fifth of November," Carson quoted, "Gunpowder, treason and plot!"

"So you lit bonfires to celebrate?"

"Bonfires and fireworks," Carson confirmed.

"Fireworks?"

"Tell you what," Carson suggested, "Next fifth of November, why don't you come back home with me? Then you can see for yourself... What about that?"

Ronon didn't answer. The elusive memory had flashed back into life, coalescing finally into clarity. Ronon swallowed hard, closing his eyes, emotion washing over him as the memories came alive.

Carson frowned, giving the big Satedan a few moments before asking, "Ronon? Is everything okay?"

The question brought Ronon back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, "Yeah…"

He opened his eyes, looking across at Carson. "When I was small," he began, "when I was ill, my grandfather would take a measure of atopae, heat it with a poker from the fire then add sugar and some warmroot juice. He'd top up the cup with warm milk."

The memory tugged a soft smile onto Ronon's lips, "Being ill wasn't good, but drinking that tonic, leaning against my grandfather while he read to me… That's a good memory… I had forgotten…"

Carson said nothing but he picked up the bottle, leaned forward and topped up Ronon's drink. "This," he told Ronon, refilling his own glass, "calls for a toast."

Putting the bottle down, he held up his mead. "To good memories and good friends."

Sitting forward, knocking his glass gently against Carson's, Ronon smiled. "Good memories and good friends…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Salvage**

**Prompt: Sour**

**Summary: Smoke draws Ronon to the aftermath of a Wraith attack**

He could smell the smoke as soon as he came through the Gate: burning wood mingled with something more acrid: tainted with death.

Normally, if there was any sign at all of human habitation, he would turn around, dial another address and leave. It was necessary. The tracking device in his back endangered any village he came into contact with. The only time he ever lingered for any length of time was if he had no other choice - when he was ill or injured - and then he left as soon as he was able to.

The smoke drew him towards it. He recognised it. It signalled the remains of a village; the smoking remnants of wood that had once been the backbone of dwellings; personal belongings scattered across the ground; milk turned sour; bread gone stale; butter gone rancid…

The village would be empty, scoured of life by the Wraith… but he couldn't leave without searching for survivors. Besides, if he was lucky he would find something he could salvage among the ruins.

He avoided the path but paralleled it through the trees, alert for any sound that would signify either Wraith or human life. The forest was eerily quiet. There was no bird song, no buzz of insects… nothing.

It took him a half-hour to get to, what turned out to be, the ruins of a small town. The wooden buildings had all burned to the ground, but a few of the single-story stone dwellings were still standing. A handful of them even had their roofs intact.

Cautiously, he made his way through the silent streets, noting which buildings were worthy of closer inspection later. There had obviously been a market or a celebration of some sort going on in the town square when the Wraith had attacked. That was where he found the first bodies. Around them, stalls lay overturned, their contents strewn across, and trampled into, the ground. Right in the centre of the plaza, a brightly-painted pole stood erect and untouched by the devastation around it. Long rainbow-coloured ribbons hung from the top of it, moving gently in the breeze.

At the far side of the square, collapsed buildings sent isolated spirals of smoke into the air.

He stayed still for a long time, taking in every inch of the open area, waiting for any sign of movement, giving any potential attacker time to betray themselves. Finally reassured that it was safe to move, he went to investigate.

The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time he tied anything that was worth salvaging into a moss-coloured blanket. Some boxes of dried and candied fruit; some skins of ale; a few rolls of dried meats; a small basket filled with round, flat bread; two, long, hunting knives with leather scabbards; some small pots of antiseptic salve.

He was already wearing the soft, dark-grey sweater he had found, and the leather chaps.

Everything else was useless…

Gathering the corners of the tied blanket in one hand, he hefted it over his shoulder. Then he stood for a moment, head bowed in silent respect for those who had died in this place, before setting off back towards the Gate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Bowmore versus Jack**

**Prompt: Breakfast**

**Summary: The morning after the night before**

John Sheppard surfaced, reluctantly, from post-alcoholic sleep into the parched mouth and head-pounding torture of a hangover. He groaned softly, trying to remember who he had been drinking with: and what, exactly he had been drinking.

Ronon… and Carson… He'd been drinking whisky with Ronon and Carson… Rodney had been there too, briefly, before being called away because of some glitch with the Stargate. And Teyla… She'd been there…

It had started over a friendly discussion about the merits of whisky as opposed to bourbon. When the argument had become a little more heated, Carson and John had enlisted Ronon's help to make a final decision. Having tried neither, he was an ideal judge… or so John had thought. Much to his disgust Ronon had finally chosen _Bowmore_ over _Jack_.

Which was how they had all ended up in Carson's quarters, drinking until the wee hours of the morning…

A loud snore broke the silence sending a thump of pain through John's head. He winced then peeled an eye open and turned his head in the direction of the sound. Ronon… wrapped in a blanket, lying on the floor beside him.

The Satedan snored again, then grunted and turned over…

John closed his eyes, thankful for the returning silence, wondering just how bad he was going to feel when he finally found the courage to sit up.

The outer door opened then closed.

"Wakey wakey! Rise and shine!"

John winced again and groaned at the cheerfulness in Carson's voice. Then the smell of fried food sent him struggling to his feet and heading for the bathroom as his stomach rebelled.

On the floor, Ronon grunted, opening his eyes. Running his hand across his face, he sat up then looked over at Carson. "Smells good…"

"Aye, well," Carson told him, putting down the two, covered trays he was carrying. "You two sleeping beauties obviously weren't going to make breakfast, so I thought I should bring it back with me…"

"Thanks," Ronon acknowledged, untangling himself from the blanket and climbing to his feet. He stretched, leisurely, looking round the room, and then frowned, scratching his hair. "Two?"

"Aye, Big Man," Carson supplied, not quite able to keep the smile from his face. "I doubt John will want to eat, though…"

Ronon quirked an eyebrow. "Bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Carson confirmed.

"Lightweight," Ronon quipped, rolling his eyes and scratching his head as he walked across to the table. Pulling off the cloche, he picked up the cutlery, spearing a slice of bacon with the fork. He paused, glancing across to Carson's bathroom. "He going to be okay?"

"He," John told him, from the door, "is going to be fine… in a few hours…"

Ronon turned. "You look like crap…"

John sighed, making his way carefully across the floor, "I feel worse…"

Chewing on the bacon, Ronon grinned at him. Then he skewered a sausage patty, offering it to Sheppard as he sat down. "Want some breakfast…"

John groaned, closing his eyes, waving away the food.

Carson lifted the cloche from the other tray. Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out a small packet. Then he pressed the two tablets into the glass of water on the tray. "Here," he told John, holding out the now-fizzing liquid. "Get that down you…"

John took the glass, draining the contents. "Whose idea was last night?"

"Yours," Ronon confirmed, still munching.

"Here," Carson offered, "I brought some toast as well. You'll feel better if you eat something…"

"Toast sounds good," John confirmed. "Got any coffee?"

"Aye, but not from the mess hall," Carson told him. "Give me two ticks and I'll have some fresh stuff brewing…"

John took a bite of the toast, glowering at Ronon as he tucked into his fried breakfast. "Why am I the only one with a hangover?"

"Because you drank almost all the Jim," the Satedan reminded him.

"Jack," John corrected. "Jim is completely different…"

"Still preferred Carson's stuff…" Ronon grinned.

John glared at him, deriding, "Wookiees never did have taste…"

"Technically," Carson quipped, switching on the coffee pot, "That makes you Solo or Skywalker, you know…"

Ronon looked from one to the other, completely at a loss as to what they were talking about.

"No contest," John was saying, "Definitely Solo…"

"Aye," Carson quipped, "I can just see you as a wall-hanging, too."

"Wall-hanging?" Ronon asked, totally confused.

John and Carson exchanged looks.

"He's not seen it…"

"Think we need to remedy that…"

John was suddenly feeling a little better. Grinning at Ronon, he told him, "Eat up, buddy. Have we got a treat for you!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Cave Man**

**Prompt: Small**

**Summary: Torren falls asleep in Ronon's arms**

Ronon grinned down at the baby boy lying in his arms and gently caressed the small cheek. Torren yawned, then stretched and snuggled more deeply into the crook of Ronon's arm.

Teyla smiled, "He is always so content with you…"

Kanaan chuckled, placing mugs of coffee beside Ronon and Teyla. "I shall become jealous," he warned good-naturedly. "My son cries when I hold him…"

Then he grinned wickedly, quipping, "Perhaps we should remember this, Teyla, for when Torren refuses to return to sleep in the small hours of the morning…"

Ronon quirked an eyebrow, assuring Kanaan, "I'm a heavy sleeper…"

Then he grinned, looking back down at Torren, "He's so small… I forgot how small babies were…"

Teyla smiled, "He will soon grow…" She moved her hand, gently resting it on Kanaan's leg, "And will wish to be like his father and his Uncle Ronon…"

"As long as it's not his Uncle Rodney, he'll be fine…"

"Ronon!" Teyla admonished, not quite able to keep the grin from her face. Kanaan laughed. "Rodney is a good man!" Teyla continued.

Ronon quirked an eyebrow.

Lifting her coffee, Teyla turned to Kanaan, telling him, "Ronon has not yet forgiven Rodney for referring to him as a cave man…"

Ronon muttered something under his breath that they didn't quite hear. Kanaan looked from Ronon to Teyla then asked, innocenctly, "But did you not tell me that your first meeting with Ronon was _in_ a cave?"

"Indeed," Teyla confirmed with a smile.

"Now you're just ganging up on me!" Ronon protested.

In Ronon's arms, Torren wriggled then stretched, drawing the big Satedan's attention back to him. Torren smiled in his sleep then snuggled back in against Ronon's chest. Smiling, Ronon wrapped the blanket back around the little boy, cooing, "You won't call your Uncle Ronon a cave man, will you? No, you won't…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Focus**

**Prompt: Breathe**

**Summary: Ronon's first meditation…**

"Breathe in through your nose… Two… Three… Four… And out through your mouth… Two… Three… Four…"

Sitting cross-legged behind Teyla, Ronon did as she directed.

"And again… Two… Three… Four … And out… Two… Three… Four …"

Ronon followed her directions explicitly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. This really wasn't what he had expected to be doing... He had thought "meditation" was another form of fighting…

"Draw in calm, soothing air… Two… Three… Four … And feel the tension ebb away as you breathe out… Two… Three… Four …"

Ronon frowned, not feeling any difference at all as he breathed out. He persisted though, not wanting to offend Teyla. He had asked if he could join her, after all. She had seemed surprised but pleased that he was interested; reassuring him when he said he had no idea what to do: assuring him that she would guide him through the meditation.

He breathed in again, then out… Then in…. then out… Then, to his amazement, he found the tension across his shoulders easing. Maybe there was something to this meditation stuff after all.

"Attempt to keep your attention focussed only on your breathing," Teyla was instructing. "Do not worry if you find your thoughts have wandered: simply return them to your breathing…"

_Breathing… Don't think about your shoulders; think about your breathing… _

_In… Two… Three… Four …_

_Out… Two… Three… Four…_

_In… Two… Three…_

Memories of his sparring practice with Sheppard floated into his mind. They had been using staffs. Ronon had ducked under a sweeping blow that would have taken his head off his shoulders. He'd swung round, bringing the staff down in an attempt to sweep Jon's knees out from under him… Jon had anticipated the move…

_If I'd turned the staff_, Ronon considered, _and brought it up instead of…_

_Wait… _he reminded himself_. Breathing…_

_Don't think about the sparring; think about your breathing… _

Shaking his head, squaring his shoulders, Ronon began again_, In… Two… Three… Four …_

_Out… Two… Three… Four_ …

_In… Two… Three…_

His belly gurgled softly, reminding him that he hadn't had dinner yet, breaking his concentration…

Rodney had mentioned sausages on the dinner menu…

_Breathing!_ Ronon reminded himself, again. _Don't think about sausages; think about your breathing… _

_In… Two… Three… Four …_

_Out… Two… Three… Four_ …

_In… Two… Three…_

oo0oo

"Sorry…"

Teyla looked at Ronon, smiling at him, "Ronon, you have nothing for which to apologise. The intention of meditation is relaxation… You simply relaxed more completely than was intended…"

Ronon scowled, embarrassed at his reaction to the meditation. "I still feel bad…"

"Do not," Teyla told him; reminding him, "It was, after all, your very first attempt…"

"I didn't snore _too_ loudly, did I?"

Teyla chose her words carefully, deciding that a small lie was required to reassure the big Satedan. He had, after all, followed her instruction and it was not his fault that he had fallen asleep. Sleep found almost everyone at some point when first learning to meditate... Finding a smile, she fibbed, "It... did not disturb me greatly…"

"What didn't disturb you?" Jon asked from behind them.

"Ronon's snoring," Teyla supplied.

When Jon's eyebrows all but disappeared into his hairline, she qualified quickly, "We were meditating!"

"Uh-huh…" Jon commented, obviously not believing her, a small grin spreading across his face.

"I fell asleep," Ronon admitted, still looking awkward about the whole situation.

"Happens to us all, buddy," Jon commiserated, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"Really?" Ronon asked, feeling a little better about what had happened. If it had happened to Sheppard then…

"No," Jon grinned, walking past the two of them. Then he turned, telling them, "I'm heading for dinner if you two love-birds want to join me?"

"Jon!" Teyla shot back in exasperation, knowing that Sheppard wasn't going to let them forget this any time soon.

Ronon frowned, looking from Jon to Teyla. "Luvbirds?" he asked. "What are luvbirds?"

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Sandan**

**Prompt: Mind**

**Summary: Someone's watching Ronon**

"Don't look now," Jon Sheppard commented as Ronon Dex dumped a tray of food onto the table and sat down opposite him, "but Sergeant Eyles has been watching you since we walked into the room…"

Ronon looked at him then turned, scanning the room, "Which one's he?"

Jon rolled his eyes, shaking his head, admonishing, "I said **not** to look now!"

Anger and confusion washing through him, Ronon turned back to him, "Why's he looking at me?"

"**She**," John corrected. "**She** is looking at you!"

"She?"

"She!" Jon confirmed, grinning wickedly.

"So which one is she?" Ronon asked, turning to scan the room again.

Jon sighed, rolling his eyes, "Hey! Buddy! Face the front!"

Ronon looked at him.

"Eat your food!" Jon told him, pointing at the plate with his fork.

Giving Jon a sour look, Ronon did as he was told.

"Keep your eyes on your plate," Jon warned then continued, "Sergeant Eyles is with the new detachment that arrived last week. She's the one I told you about: tall, leggy, redhead…"

Ronon speared a carrot with his fork then looked up at Jon. "The crack shot who can fight?"

"Well, I'd hardly call a sandan black belt in kyokushin karate, someone _who can fight_," Jon berated. "Karate has structure…" he went on, "Form… finesse..."

Ronon fixed him with a level look. This was the first time he had ever heard Jon talking about any kind of karate, yet he seemed to know a lot about it. "You've been talking to her," Ronon accused.

Jon looked uncomfortably like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, confirming Ronon's suspicions. "I… may have… spoken to her," he confirmed. "In passing… But only because she was asking about you…"

Ronon paused, carrot half-way to his mouth, "About me? Why was she asking about me?"

"Because she's interested in you, buddy!"

Frowning, Ronon looked at him, "Why is she interested in me?"

Jon grinned. "Well, I don't think it's because of your mind!" he supplied.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Ichi Ni**

**Author: Kazlynh**

**Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex**

**Prompt: #12 Partner**

**Fandom:SGA**  
**Rating: U**

**Word Count: 622 **

**Summary: Ronon encounters karate**

Helena heard the door open but ignored it, concentrating on the kata, making sure that each punch, kick and block was perfectly placed. Finally, having completed all the kata to her satisfaction, she stepped back, reciting the Dojo Kun. Then she bowed in respect and turned to see who was watching her.

Ronon Dex leant against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He nodded at her, greeting, "Sergeant."

"Ronon," she acknowledged, trying to act casually and professionally and not dissolve into the star-struck groupie who was screaming in her mind. The Satedan was even more gorgeous close up…

"What were you doing?" he asked her, dropping his arms and shoving himself off the wall to walk towards her.

"Kata," she told him. Then, remembering that he wasn't from Earth and probably had no idea what that was, she continued, "I studied karate before I joined the army. It's a martial art… a combat training technique," she clarified. "Kata is a way of self-training in the discipline. Certain moves are put together into a sequence so that you can practice combat manoeuvring."

"Without a weapon," Ronon clarified.

She smiled and nodded. "Karate means _open hand_…"

Ronon considered that for a moment then asked, "And you train alone?"

"No," she told him, "Kata is only part of the training. There's kihon," she explained, "kata and kumite. Kihon is the learning of the basics, kata is the self-training and kumite is sparring… Fighting practice," she clarified. "We partner up for that," she went on, "and also when we're training with kick bags…"

"Sounds interesting," he told her, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

She smiled back, "It's very disciplined. There are rules that you have to follow, even just entering the dojo, otherwise you show disrespect to the dojo and to the sensei..." She looked at him then offered, "Would you like me to teach you some basics and maybe a kata?"

"Yeah…" he told her. "That sounds good…" It was a long while since he'd been in a classroom and he found himself not just missing it, but looking forward to the discipline of learning something new.

She grinned. "Then, first things first, take your boots off," she ordered. "Karate is done in bare feet."

oo0oo

Ronon strode back through the corridors of Atlantis towards his quarters, muscles aching, fatigue settling on him. He liked this karate. It was ordered, disciplined, and Helena Eyles was a strong teacher… _No_, he corrected, _not teacher: Sempai_…

She had not just corrected his stance, the placement of his fists, or the height he was striking, she had explained why he was wrong, showing him what would happen if he didn't block properly or have his feet placed right when he moved. He'd liked that, because he'd been able to learn from it.

And the kata… running moves together to practice over and over until they became second nature. In the heat of battle, that would be really useful.

Reaching his quarters, he peeled off his clothes and headed for the shower, running over the moves of the kata in his head: move, strike, turn, block, move, strike…

Turning on the shower, he stepped under the water…

The kihon, kata and kumite weren't going to be the problem. That difficult bit was going to be the language, the Japanese, and Helena had made it clear that he'd face a physical challenge if he wasn't able to count to ten on his own by their next session…

Sighing, he reached for the soap, trying to remember the rhyme that Helena had told him to help him remember. Itchy knee, sun in the sky, she will… do something… Oh, yeah. Go…

_Ichi, ni, san, shi, go, roku…_

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Linor**

**Prompt: Body**

**Summary: Ronon collapses in a village**

Linor watched as it took four men to lift and carry the unconscious man's body into the tent.

"This is folly, Linor!"

She turned, laying a reassuring hand on her father's arm. "We cannot simply leave him lying in the middle of the village," she told him. "He will die. Do you wish the children to find him like that?"

Keturah made a soft sound of disgruntlement, but voiced no other objection as Linor smiled and kissed him on the cheek before following the men into the tent.

They had laid him on one of the cots, near to the fire. As they turned and left the tent, Linor lifted her medicine box, taking it across to the unconscious man. She knelt by his side, checking his pulse before laying the back of her fingers against his forehead. He was fevered, his pulse fast, his breathing shallow and rapid.

She stood, moving across to the fire, lifting the kettle and pouring some of the hot water into a bowl. Then she went back to the unconscious man, opening the medicine box, lifting a jar out and measuring some of the contents into the warm water. Replacing the jar, she lifted another, taking out one of the small, brown leaves and crumbling it into the warm water. Mixing the brew together she sank to her knees at his side.

His eyes were open and he was looking at her. She smiled at him. "This will help your fever and the pain," she told him, reaching out and lifting his head, helping him drink from the bowl.

Ronon took a long gulp of the bitter liquid, feeling it soothe his throat. The woman eased his head back onto the pillow and turned to look at the man standing across the tent. Ronon reached out, catching her wrist. She turned back, looking at him.

"Thank you…"

She smiled at him, telling him, "I am a healer. There is no need for thanks." Her smile faded and she warned, "I must remove your clothing. It will cause you pain."

Ronon nodded, his eyes sliding closed. By the time she had unfastened his leather waistcoat, he was unconscious again.

oo0oo

The deep slash on the man's chest was obviously infected, leaking foul-smelling puss. He groaned, whimpered softly in pain as she cleaned the wound, but stayed mercifully unconscious. Finally, satisfied that she had removed as much dirt and puss as she could, she made up a paste of ground, dried leaves and warm honey, spreading a layer over the wound before pressing a clean cloth into it.

The honey and rosea leaves had antiseptic properties that would help his body kill the infection. He would wake in pain, but she could give him more tonic for that. What concerned her more was how thin he was. Without proper nourishment, his body would be unable to fight the infection.

"Will he live?" Keturah asked,

"I cannot be sure," Linor admitted, moving back to the fire for more warm water. "The wound is infected, he has a fever. If he is strong enough, he will recover."

"He looks as if he has endured much," Keturah commented.

"He has not bathed or eaten in many days," Linor agreed, moving back to the cot, gently beginning to wash the dirt from the rest of the man's skin.

"He cannot remain here, Linor!" Keturah warned.

"If we move him now, father," she countered, gently, "he will die…"

"Once he is strong enough, he must go!"

She smiled, glancing across at him before turning her attention back to her patient, "Of course, father."

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: The Woogies**

**Prompt: Tall**

**Summary: Mackay and Sheppard are injured on a mission**

Ronon heard Rodney scream, followed by a more masculine shout. Turning back, he was already running through the trees towards Mackay and Sheppard when he heard the gunfire. There were four more, controlled, bursts before Ronon reached the clearing he had left them in.

Tehla arrived just ahead of him and began firing at an animal in the middle of the small clearing. The bullets, however, were bouncing harmlessly off its thick, plated hide. It stopped, turning towards her, rearing up onto its hind legs.

Ronon swore, bringing his gun to bear, fear stabbing through him. Reared up, the animal was half again as tall as he was…

He fired at its head. It made no sound, or none that he could hear, but it stepped back, turning towards him. For the first time, Ronon saw the soft, apparently un-armoured, skin on its underbelly. He took aim.

As he squeezed the trigger, the beast leapt at him.

Ronon cursed, rolling out of the way, coming back to his feet, bringing the gun up as the animal turned and reared up again. Ronon fired.

The animal took a step back. Ronon fired a third time: then a fourth.

The animal flailed for a moment, snapping its head left and right… then it toppled backwards, crashing to the ground. Ronon put another two charges into its throat, making sure it had stopped moving before he stepped back.

Turning, he saw Tehla kneeling, half obscured by the long grass. Jogging over, he had almost reached her before he saw Jon lying on his back, conscious but obviously in pain.

"Jon," Tehla warned again, "Do not move. You are injured. Where is Rodney?"

"Dunno…" Jon groaned. "Thing came… out of nowhere…"

Ronon turned, scanning the area, "Mackay!"

If Rodney had taken off, there was no way of knowing which direction he had gone in. If he was injured, lying in the long grass, unable to call for help, they wouldn't find him until they fell over him. And Ronon's instincts, honed by years of evading the Wraith, warned him that it wouldn't be long before more of those creatures turned up. He could feel it in the pit of his belly.

"Mackay!"

There was a noise to his right, almost like a soft groan, and Ronon turned, taking a step forward. "Mackay?"

Hearing the noise again, Ronon moved forward, "Mackay!"

He found the scientist crumpled on his side, lying on the grass at the base of a tree. His arm was lying at a strange angle and his face was covered in blood. He moaned softly, but didn't move. Worried not only by the blood but by how quiet the normally verbose Rodney was, Ronon dropped to his knees beside him.

"Mackay? Mackay can you hear me?"

Rodney's eyes slid open. He frowned, as if confused. "Ronon?"

His voice was almost a whisper, devoid of strength.

Ronon swore, laying a gentle hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Don't move!" he warned Mackay. "You've been injured."

Rodney frowned again. "I have?"

The bewilderment in Mackay's voice deepened Ronon's worry. Added to that was the fact that Ronon could feel his skin crawling, as if a thousand ants were running across it. Instinct was warning him to run, warning him that they were all in danger… but Rodney was obviously injured and although Ronon was no medic, he knew enough not to try to move the scientist. Turning, looking across at Teyla, he called, "Mackay's hurt!"

"Is he bad?" Jon asked as Teyla rose and moved across to the Satedan.

"Bad enough," Ronon confirmed, scanning the area, convinced that another of the animals was going to appear without warning. He rose to his feet, turning to Teyla as she reached him. "Can Sheppard be moved?" he asked softly.

She nodded, glancing back at Jon. "His ribs are injured and he is in pain, but I believe he will be able to walk."

Ronon looked across at Sheppard, then down at Rodney before turning back to Teyla. "Get Jon out of here," he told her, starting to take off his coat. "I'll stay with Mackay. Not sure how bad he's injured," he went on, looking at Rodney again, "but he's quiet and that can't be good…"

Teyla nodded agreement. "I will take Jon to the Gate, then return," she told him. "He said the animal attacked almost silently and without warning. If others come you will need help…"

"Think they're already on their way," Ronon warned her, leaning down to cover Rodney with his coat. "This place gives me the woogies…"

"I also feel this way," Teyla confirmed, scanning the clearing. "Perhaps their communication is too low or too high for us to hear but still affecting us…" She handed the medical kit to him as he straightened. "I will return as quickly as I can."

oo0oo

Ronon glanced down at Rodney before turning his attention back to the perimeter of the clearing. He had cleaned the blood from Rodney's face, covering the gash above his eye with a dressing. He hadn't risked trying to move him to search for other injuries. Rodney had obviously been thrown against the tree and Ronon was worried about his spine being damaged.

"You still with me, Mackay?"

There was no response. Swearing, Ronon dropped his gaze back to the scientist, leaning down to take a closer look at him. His breath was shallow and rapid. Ronon had no idea how much blood Rodney had lost, or how badly injured he might be internally, but it was possible that he was slipping into shock… More importantly, Ronon knew that with a possible head injury, he needed to keep Rodney awake. "Mackay!"

Rodney dragged his eyes open, "Hmmm?"

"Don't go to sleep!" Ronon warned. "Talk to me!"

"Oh…." Rodney murmured. "Okay…" He went quiet for a moment then began, "Ronon?"

"Yeah?"

"My head hurts…"

"I know, Mackay," Ronon told him. "It's okay. Sheppard's gone for help. And Teyla will be back soon…"

"Teyla…" Rodney repeated. He smiled, "She's pretty…"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ronon couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips as he turned to check the area behind him, remembering a conversation that he'd overheard in the medical centre after they'd brought him back from Sateda. "She is," he agreed. "And I'm a caveman…"

"You are!" Rodney confirmed, sluggishly. "And I told Jon that… but he rolled his eyes…"

"It's okay, Mackay…" Ronon assured him.

There was movement on the edge of the clearing and Ronon snapped round towards it, bringing his gun up.

"Ronon?"

He relaxed, recognising Teyla's voice, "Over here!" He turned to Rodney, "Teyla's back, Mackay…"

Teyla appeared at the edge of the clearing. She was followed by Lorne, a platoon of soldiers and Carson. She jogged across to Ronon, telling him, "Jon passed out as we reached the gate. I had to take him through. We came back as quickly as we could… How is Rodney?"

"His breathing's not good, but I managed to keep him awake…" Ronon told her.

"We have seen nothing more of the animals on the way here," Teyla told him.

"Nothing's turned up since you left," Ronon confirmed. "Maybe the woogies warned them off," he finished as Carson reached them.

Sinking to his knees, the doctor hefted the medical pack off of his shoulders and leaned over Mackay. "Rodney? Rodney can you hear me?"

"Carson?" Rodney slurred, then supplied, "Ronon's... a caveman…"

"Is he now?" Carson commented, beginning to check Rodney over. "Well, you can discuss that with him once we've got you sorted out."

oo0oo

Ronon stood outside the medical centre, arms folded across his chest, waiting. Sheppard stood beside him.

"Jon," Teyla tried again, "You should rest. Ronon or I will update you with Rodney's condition…"

"She's right," Ronon told him. Then he went on, "You look like crap. You should rest."

"My ribs don't hurt as much when I'm standing up…" Jon countered.

"We'll remember that when we're carrying you back to your quarters," Ronon quipped.

"Give it up!" Jon warned. "That's an order!"

"Technically," Teyla countered, "you have been relieved of duty by Doctor Beckett. You cannot issue orders…"

Ronon chuckled and Jon shot him a sour look, retorting, "Laugh it up, fuzz ball!"

All humour disappeared as Carson walked into the corridor. Ronon glanced at Teyla and Jon, pushing himself off the wall, unfolding his arms, tension fluttering in his stomach. The Doctor gave all three of them a reassuring smile.

"Rodney's going to be fine," he told them. "There's no serious head injury," he went on, "He's cracked ribs and dislocated a shoulder, but there's no spinal injury. We're going to keep him here overnight for observation but we'll hopefully release him tomorrow."

Ronon relaxed, a slow smile pulling at his lips as Carson continued, "Now, will you get Colonel Sheppard out of here before I confine him to a bed in there!"

Ronon turned, taking Jon's elbow. Teyla moved in, taking Sheppard's other elbow.

"Jon will cause you no more concern," Teyla told Carson. "I assure you…"

.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: Dinner with Friends**

**Prompt: Dinner**

**Summary: Ronon attends a dinner party**

Ronon sat, listening to the conversation around the table, nursing his first glass of wine. He wasn't keen on the stuff, preferring whisky or beer, but this dinner was partly in his honour and Elizabeth Weir had brought the bottle, so he hadn't wanted to offend her by refusing it.

Teyla was also on her first glass, but Elizabeth, Jon, Rodney and Carson had polished off a second bottle of wine and had started on a third.

Jon had explained that it was an Earth custom to honour people who had distinguished themselves in the defence of colleagues. He, Teyla and Carson had been cited for commendations for their actions during the time that Weir and Sheppard's bodies had been taken over by Thalan and Phoebus. The dinner was an extension of that.

Ronon wasn't quite clear on why they wanted to pay tribute to him. Teyla and Carson, he could understand, but all he had done was taken a bullet in his belly.

"_You risked your life to try and save the base, buddy," Jon had told him. "And Elizabeth still feels bad about shooting you, by the way…"_

_Ronon had looked at him, reminding him, "Weir didn't shoot me."_

"_Yeah," Jon had countered, "but if Elizabeth and I hadn't… you know… offered up our bodies, it wouldn't have happened…"_

In the end Ronon had only attended because the dinner was for Teyla and Carson, as well as him: and he found himself glad that he had. He had never been very comfortable in social occasions but the food had been good, as had the company. Relaxed, belly full, Ronon found himself enjoying the evening, even though he sat and mostly listened to the conversation.

It was a far cry from the lonely campfires he had sat beside to keep himself warm, food cooking on a spit... if he was lucky.

His thoughts flowed back to the last meal he'd had alone: in the cave, the night before he'd come across Jon and Teyla. So much had happened since then.

He was free now. The Wraith had no way of tracking him down.

He was used to sleeping in a bed again, safe in the knowledge that if anything untoward happened, he had people who would back him up. He still woke at night, in a cold sweat, from dreams of being chased by the Wraith… but those occasions were now few and far between.

The laughter, at something Carson had said, faded away and Ronon sat up straighter, announcing into the lull in conversation, "I… um… want to say something."

They all looked at him and, running over the words in his head before he said them, he looked around the table. "I know this dinner is for Teyla, Carson and me, because we got awarded medals… but…"

He paused, wishing he'd not begun to say anything, realising that now he'd started he had to go on. "Well… I just wanted to say… medals mean nothing… it's friends that matter. I had a long time without them… so… I just wanted to say…"

He lifted his glass, "To friends…"


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Dinner with Friends

Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex

Prompt: #13 Dinner

Ronon sat, listening to the conversation around the table, nursing his first glass of wine. He wasn't keen on the stuff, preferring whisky or beer, but this dinner was partly in his honour and Elizabeth Weir had brought the bottle, so he hadn't wanted to offend her by refusing it.

Teyla was also on her first glass, but Elizabeth, Jon, Rodney and Carson had polished off a second bottle of wine and had started on a third.

Jon had explained that it was an Earth custom to honour people who had distinguished themselves in the defence of colleagues. He, Teyla and Carson had been cited for commendations for their actions during the time that Weir and Sheppard's bodies had been taken over by Thalan and Phoebus. The dinner was an extension of that.

Ronon wasn't quite clear on why they wanted to pay tribute to him. Teyla and Carson, he could understand, but all he had done was taken a bullet in his belly.

"_You risked your life to try and save the base, buddy," Jon had told him. "And Elizabeth still feels bad about shooting you, by the way…"_

_Ronon had looked at him, reminding him, "Weir didn't shoot me."_

"_Yeah," Jon had countered, "but if Elizabeth and I hadn't… you know… offered up our bodies, it wouldn't have happened…"_

In the end Ronon had only attended because the dinner was for Teyla and Carson, as well as him: and he found himself glad that he had. He had never been very comfortable in social occasions but the food had been good, as had the company. Relaxed, belly full, Ronon found himself enjoying the evening, even though he sat and mostly listened to the conversation.

It was a far cry from the lonely campfires he had sat beside to keep himself warm, food cooking on a spit... if he was lucky.

His thoughts flowed back to the last meal he'd had alone: in the cave, the night before he'd come across Jon and Teyla. So much had happened since then.

He was free now. The Wraith had no way of tracking him down.

He was used to sleeping in a bed again, safe in the knowledge that if anything untoward happened, he had people who would back him up. He still woke at night, in a cold sweat, from dreams of being chased by the Wraith… but those occasions were now few and far between.

The laughter, at something Carson had said, faded away and Ronon sat up straighter, announcing into the lull in conversation, "I… um… want to say something."

They all looked at him and, running over the words in his head before he said them, he looked around the table. "I know this dinner is for Teyla, Carson and me, because we got awarded medals… but…"

He paused, wishing he'd not begun to say anything, realising that now he'd started he had to go on. "Well… I just wanted to say… medals mean nothing… it's friends that matter. I had a long time without them… so… I just wanted to say…"

He lifted his glass, "To friends…"


	14. Chapter 14

Title: The Third Day

Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex

Prompt: #14 Surface

Lungs burning, adrenalin pumping, Ronon raced through the forest, trying to circle back towards the gate. The damned Wraith was still right behind him, though.

He hadn't been able to shake this one, or kill it. After three days of constant hounding, with little sleep and even less to eat, Ronon knew that his only chance of surviving this hunt was to get to the Gate and make it through before the Wraith caught up with him.

He leapt over a log, landing badly and ending up sprawled on his belly. Scrambling up, he took off again, cutting left through the trees. Ahead of him, a soft rumble grew steadily towards a roar.

Ronon recognised the sound: waterfall.

He'd crossed a wide, shallow river on the first day, but it had rained since then. Now, a thunderous torrent obviously stood between him and the Gate. Although... he was upriver of the point he'd crossed.

If the water wasn't running too fast he could maybe ride it down-river for a distance...

The thought spurred him on and he ran for the rumble of the water.

Running at full tilt, he didn't realise the ground had disappeared in front of him until it was almost too late. Only grabbing onto a well-placed tree stopped him from tumbling down the steep incline of the river ravine.

He grunted, pulling himself up, climbing to his knees. A cold smile pulled at his lips as he shot a look back over his shoulder. Maybe the Wraith wouldn't be so lucky. Maybe the Wraith would end up in the river...

It was running faster and higher than Ronon would have liked... but a blaster shot hit the tree branch above him and he knew he didn't have a choice. He slid down the steep ravine as fast as he dared, scrambling for purchase, slowing himself by grabbing hold of branches and saplings, not wanting to hit the water while sliding out of control.

Above him, the roar of frustration from the Wraith echoed along the ravine.

He grasped at another sapling, hanging on to it, bringing himself to a stop at the edge of the water. He hung on for a moment, gauging the flow, glancing back up the top of the ravine.

He swore, turning to jump as a flash of black moved above him... but something made him hesitate...

And then the Wraith tumbled past him, crashing into the roiling water and disappearing.

Ronon held onto the sapling, scanning the water further down-stream, waiting for the Wraith to surface. He waited a full minute, then another...

Then he sighed softly, resting his head back against the ground, closing his eyes for a moment. Turning carefully, he moved onto his knees. Checking the river once more, just to be sure, he began the long, slow climb to the top.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: Be Strong**

**Author: Kazlynh**

**Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex**

**Prompt: #15 Hunt**

**Rating: U**

**Word Count: 398 **

**Summary: A village is attacked**

Ronon Dex grabbed both Carson Beckett and the woman and child, dragging them to the ground. Bits of wood and tree bark spattered around them as the Wraith blaster fire sailed over their heads and into the tree above their heads. The little boy whimpered.

"Hush," Ronan told him, smiling at him, kissing his hair. Looking at the boy's mother, he told them, "Be strong. We'll be fine..."

Letting the boy go, rolling over onto his back, Ronon took aim at the Wraith.

"Move!" he ordered.

Carson obeyed him, scrambling to his feet, hauling the woman up, grasping hold of the toddler and taking off towards the Stargate.

Ronon fired, then rolled to his feet, firing in the direction of the Wraith again. The Stargate was so close he had been able to see it. All he had to do was fight off the Wraith, keeping Carson, the woman and her toddler son safe until the Doctor had dialled the Atlantis address.

So close... and yet so far...

It had been sheer bad luck that the Wraith had attacked the village. An outbreak of influenza, unwittingly brought in by the Atlantis crew, had afflicted the village and a medical team had been sent in to help. There had been a military team too, headed by Sheppard.

Ronan had no idea how many of the Atlantis people, or the villagers had survived. In the heat of the attack, Sheppard had taken responsibility for the villagers, ordering Ronon to get Carson to safety.

Ronon had grabbed the doctor, and the woman and child Carson had been attending. Despite the doctor's protest, Ronon had hustled them all towards the Stargate.

The Wraith had followed. They had been so close that Ronon could almost feel the glee as they revelled in the hunt. Their enjoyment was palpable: their disregard for human lives obvious.

Turning, firing again, he tried to cover Carson as the doctor reached the dialling device and input the Atlantis coordinates.

There wasn't time. Ronon knew there wasn't time. Roaring in denial he ran toward the Wraith, firing blindly, trying to lay firing cover for Carson.

The Wraith counter fire caught him full in the chest, sending him flying backwards onto the ground, stealing the breath from his lungs. As darkness rushed in, he heard the echo of gunfire and the unmistakeable sound of the Stargate threshold whooshing into life.


End file.
